


No other version of me I would rather be tonight

by Lethally



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M, ignores the whole germany thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 02:57:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3593769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lethally/pseuds/Lethally
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The phone calls continue after her undercover mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No other version of me I would rather be tonight

The phone calls continue after her undercover mission. Sometimes they’re tips on how to not get your cover blown and sometimes they are just random things he wants to share with her. He mostly calls at night, and doesn’t start talking until she answers her phone onewordedly, “Keen.”

That’s when he either starts talking, straight to business or sometimes there is silence on the other end, the sound of his breath as he thinks of what to say.

“Never give them your real birth day. But don’t pick a fake day randomly, you need to know the astrological sign. That’s how you get caught.”

Then.

“Today’s my birthday.”

Of course, she already knows, she knows since he told her his real name and she checked everything she could find about him, which isn’t much besides a birth certificate.

In the background, she hears noises, different languages spoken, cars passing by. That’s when she knows he is out of the country. Those days she breathes a little easier, knowing that he won’t be wherever they bust in next.

 

The burner phone rings, she’s picked this one up just for those special calls and gave him the number. His voice seemed to perk up after that. Most of their conversations are one-sided.

“I really do hate cinnamon. It wasn’t just a thing to start a conversation that day.” He snortslaughs (it’s a Tom thing she’d always thought, or is it Jacob if he still does it?). “I wasn’t supposed to approach you like that, there was this whole planned thing with kids’ drawings and spilt coffee. Starting an argument about cinnamon and pumpkin spiced things seemed like something you’d remember.”

One morning.

“I always hated the neighbor’s cat. I hated most of our neighbors too.”

Saturday, 3 a.m.

“There’s a dog at that pet shelter where we got ours. She’s missing a leg and old but she’s sweet. Your kind of dog.”

The next day, she’s at the shelter the second they open their doors and she finds the dog he mentioned right away. One of the employees watches her pet the dog and says, “There was a man here three days ago, he looked at all the dogs and then stopped at this one, Charlie. Most people usually ignore her because she’s old, but he saw her and played with her for at least an hour. He left without a word though. I was kinda hoping he’d come back for her.”

 

In the middle of the headquarters, 3 p.m.

“Keen.”

“I hate speaking French. I like German and Spanish. Never learned Italian.” She makes a “hm” sound in answer.

“I love you.”

She hurries to speak, her voice quivering. “Call me, after. So I know – ”He hangs up on her.

 

The next two weeks are quiet. No shortened nights by his phone calls, no early morning ones, no calls in the middle of the office, nothing but silence. At the end of the first week, she checks the phone regularly, the time in between growing shorter, from every three hours to every ten minutes if she’s free.

The Tuesday of the third week, she goes back to her motel room, finds a pack of red skittles on her pillow. She sleeps heavily the entire night.

 

They’re on the prowl for a new number, 86, Reddington calls them “Sangre”, an organization hiding behind a drug carter, whose real profit comes from biological assassinations. It is pretty nasty, especially now that they’ve got their hands on some stolen CDC samples. She’s on a stake out with Rassler, watching the coming and goings of the cartel members when she spots him. His back is half turned to her and he walks into the house, talking with one of the higher ups.

 

That night she calls him for the first time. He never hid the number but she had never called him, even during those two weeks.

 

He answers on the first ring. “Liz.” He says his name like he always did on the days when she would come home earlier than planned, a mix of surprised and happy. At least, that’s what she thought then, god knows what it truly meant. She likes to think that some of it was real.

“We’re raiding the house in two days time, when all the Sangre members will be there.”

He’s silent for a minute. She hears paper being shuffled, his breath louder in the phone.

“I should have everything I need before then. How did you even know –?”

“I saw you today.”

“I thought you would arrest me at the first chance you had.” More silence.

“Thank you, Lizzie.”

She hates how many memories come to her mind with this nickname. She puts what she is about to say to the sentimentality of the nickname.

“I love you.”

She lets the silence grow between them and waits for something, anything that he can give her.

“I loved you, even then, you know? I tried to ignore it and pretend I would still be able to do the job, even kill you if necessary. But I couldn’t in the end. Being Tom Keen got easier and easier, until I didn’t feel like I was anyone else than Tom Keen. But my name isn’t Tom Keen anymore, and I still care.” The words and rushed, whispered hurriedly. She feels lighter somehow, but sadder too. There is no future to them, but she can’t seem to let go of past Tom and new Tom. And maybe she won’t have to, if he doesn’t let go.

“Next time you’re in town, come by.”

She hangs up. The phone is warm in her hand. It doesn’t ring back.

 


End file.
